


Just A Little While

by CassieHughes



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angsty musings, Gen, Maudlin, Regrets, Sorry Not Sorry, Worried father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 05:32:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6892117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassieHughes/pseuds/CassieHughes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the midst of war Thranduil ponders his son's fate. (Written for April 2016 Teitho- Waiting)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Little While

**Just A little While**

 

I know I should not be here, there are so many other places, other duties that call but still I find I do not wish to tear myself away, the kingdom will survive without me at its beck and call for just a little while.

My fingers trail across the wooden surfaces as I meander round the room. It is pristine. No dust has been allowed to settle, no spider given leave to spin in its corners and I wonder if it will remain this way forever. Waiting patiently for its owner to return, turning colder and more empty with each passing year until it becomes naught but a shrine for my shadow form to flit through until worlds end.

I shake my head. I am become maudlin and afraid, this waiting will be mine own undoing yet. A deep breath and I pull myself upright. This is not the behaviour of a king. My son would be appalled, well, perhaps a little disconcerted, to see me like this. Yet he has no child of his own. None to cause his heart to falter if they fall, none to shred his fëa or shake his firm belief in self and happy ever after when he let them go.

I did not let him go. He chose against my will to leave these sheltered halls and travel to the hidden realm where Noldor lords prevail. He felt the need to slake his own needless guilt over that wretch, Gollum’s escape. I bid him send another, a captain in his place. One at whom the world could rant and rave without it bearing down his sense of worth by holding firm to duty duly done. In this I was gainsaid. He would allow none other take his place, stating that he should stand by his own convictions, that in those kind intentions meant to bring the creature back into the light once more he still believed we had the right, but t’were his fault that he did not conceive the servants of the dark would come to reclaim it as their own. His fault so many bright flames were extinguished for lack of thought and care.

The loss of Silvan lives, of friends and comrades in that brief yet violent and bloody battle he laid at his own door and it near broke his heart. As it did mine when, long after his report was given and after hours of search I came across him, silently weeping, under the protective embrace of a willow bent and bowed with empathetic grief.

This was so very nearly his final straw.

The long years of holding back the darkness from our beloved Tawar. The endless battles with the spiders and orcs encroaching further into this, the place that we call home. The need to remain strong and positive, to show our people he still believed that we could win, that once again the Greenwood would be great and we could dwell once more within her heart in peace. I had not seen how much it had taken, how far it had beaten him down until almost too late. He had held so much from me, hidden away his thoughts and feelings deep within the recesses of his mind so I should not perceive them. So as to not distract me from the necessary decisions to be made upon the defence of my realm.

Aie, my brightest star.

He knew that I should never send him forth again and again if I realised the hurt he took with every loss of life or ground. He knew that I would rather keep him safe within this fortress, here beside me, than allow even the slightest hint of danger to come near. So he buried all his pain and grief so deep inside that even he began to believe they would remain, hidden away forever as some forgotten dream. It could not last. Gollum’s treachery and escape saw to that.

The bed is soft and yielding to my form as I seat myself upon the pristine counterpane, smoothing its silken surface with fingers aching in memory of the days they gently stroked a slender hand as its owner lay insensate under these covers. Days when healers came and went with hushed whispers and bowls of herb scented water stained pink with blood. Days when bandages and stitches seemed to cover almost every inch of pale skin, days when I thought that this time I would finally lose my most precious gift and wonder how I could suppose to carry on.

He always came through.

Always returned to me, to us.

Yet not for long. There was always another battle. Always another settlement to save. Always another round of loss and grief. Too much. Too many. Yet I always let him go.

Until that final time. When ghost like he begged me for release. Begged me to allow him to put right his mistakes then left under cover of darkness when I refused.

My knuckles whiten as my grip upon the fabric tightens yet I do not notice until the ache in my hand finally penetrates my reminiscent mind. I let go, frowning at the creases as if they are the cause of my hurt. I only wish it were so simple as that.

If time could be retraced and with it erase my hasty words and oaths. Allow me to see through my own pain and fear to his, uncover his real need not simply those voiced for salving bruised pride. The need to be away. For his fëa to find some peace far from the battles and oppression here for just a little while. A chance to regain light and laughter for a time even though the journey be long and an unknown welcome be at its end.

To dwell in a realm untroubled and fair for even one day would succour even the most hardened heart and my son’s heart is far from hard. I should have seen. I should have understood not raged and put yet more demands upon his shattered soul. I should have let him go, not stood in regal denial, afraid and aloof. I should have been a father not a king.   

Tears run unchecked to stain the pale silk fabric draped around my neck.

I really ought move, leave this room and its memories, get back to the furore that is life at war but I can not bring myself to go just yet. I need to feel my son’s presence a little longer, to dawdle here where I can still believe he lives, will walk in through the door at any moment, because if I can not do that, I can not carry on. I swing my feet up and lay back upon his pillow, breathing in the scent of fresh green growth and woody bark that always envelopes him. It lingers here still and keeps my hope alive.

Just a moment longer…

 


End file.
